


Whispers

by Uozumi



Series: Tumblr fic prompts from various fandoms [16]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, I Blame Tumblr, mentions of canon level abuse and neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:12:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14039955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uozumi/pseuds/Uozumi
Summary: One day early into fifth year, Harry finally has had enough of Snape’s jabs at how he must be pampered when home.





	Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> **Title** _Whispers_  
>  **Author** Uozumi  
>  **Fandom** Harry Potter  
>  **Character(s)/Pairing(s)** Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Dean Thomas. No pairings.  
>  **Genre** Gen/Slice of Life  
>  **Rating** PG  
>  **Word Count** 1,108  
>  **Disclaimer** Harry Potter c. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, WB  
>  **Summary** One day early into fifth year, Harry finally has had enough of Snape’s jabs at how he must be pampered when home.  
>  **Warning(s)** canon-level mentions of abuse, neglect  
>  **Notes** So, my-mind-palace-blog on Tumblr made a post that said, “Imagine if Harry just got a little too sick of Snape’s constant jibes about him being spoiled at home and just kinda snapped. ‘Yes professor, you’re right. I’m excessively pampered. It really is extravagant of the Dursley’s to let me have the ENTIRE cupboard under the stairs all to myself. Next thing you know I’ll be making ridiculous requests like being allowed to eat everyday or have clothes that fit!’” and I was like my time has come. Please bear with me. This is my fic HP fic in a very long time and my first completed fic post-op.

**_Whispers_ **

Snape loomed over Harry’s cauldron. No matter how tall Harry got, he felt like he would never stop looking up at his professor’s nostrils. Snape unfolded his arms, the short sleeves of his wizarding robes in stark contrast to the drape-like sleeves of other professors. It did not fit him well. Snape deserved bat wings.

“Summer has dulled you, Potter,” Snape said. “All that time with sweets and lazy days have gone to your head. Or perhaps there’s chlorine still stuck in yours ears.” He frowned deeply. “The instructions were to grate the root not dice it. You also switched the green pepper corns for the pink. “I know it must be hard to function without one of those muggle boxes in front of your face, but do try to pay attention.”

Harry’s teeth made an awful noise. His jaw clenched too tight. He thought about all the drama created by the Dementor trying to kiss Dudley this summer. He thought about the time Ron, Fred, and George ripped the bars from his bedroom window a few years ago. He thought about the first time Mrs. Weasley hugged him and how that compared to his aunt who could only manage an awkward shoulder pat on rare occasion. He thought about Dudley breaking his glasses and stomping around above the cupboard under the stairs. He had never seen the Weasleys do anything to each other with that level of malicious intent. Harry thought about the relief he felt at Grimmauld Place. 

“Of course,” Harry said in a low voice, “my mistake, Professor. Being locked in my bedroom for four days must have gone to my head.” He raised his gaze to look Snape in the eyes. “Waking up in a cramped position because sometimes I forget I’m no longer sleeping in a cupboard has made me weak. I was so busy thinking about how lucky it is to have actual meals this week that I couldn’t remember to grate the root even though there’s no instruction on the board, it just says ‘fine shreds.’

“Yeah,” Harry managed not to sigh dramatically somehow, “I guess I just haven’t recovered from the ‘luxury’ of summer holidays yet. Thank you for reminding me,” a pause, “sir.” 

There was no sound. No whispers, no knocking of spoons against cauldrons, no scrapes of pestles against mortars. The hair on the back of Harry’s neck stood on end. His heartbeat increased. He did not have to look to know all eyes were on them now. Harry did not dare look away first. 

Snape’s face contorted. He opened his mouth and paused, his eyes not leaving Harry’s face. Harry was not sure what Snape knew of his aunt let alone his uncle or cousin, but he knew Snape knew enough to know he was not speaking about Grimmauld Place and he was not lying. 

“Fifty points from Gryffindor,” Snape said. “Be respectful of your professors, Potter.” He moved along. 

The noise returned to the classroom. Harry tried not to concentrate on it. Another year, more gossiping about him like he was not in the same room. 

It did not take long for the entire to school to hear of the exchange. Everywhere Harry went there were whispers. Every time he was near any students, he heard his name, Snape, cupboard, and a whole host of exaggerations. Some people claimed he shouted, but Harry knew that was not true. Some people claimed he had been locked in the cupboard and exaggerated many parts of what Harry said. There were times Harry had been locked in the cupboard or a chair placed over the handle strategically, but that had not happened in years now. Indoors or outdoors, the whispers and gossip followed. 

“…for attention,” a seventh year whispered. “Think about it. He says You Know Who’s returned and maybe he thinks someone will get him away from wherever he goes.” 

Harry’s fist clenched. He breathed through his nose. Between Cedric’s death, the drama about Voldemort, and now this, his tolerance of gossiping ran low. 

“Well he is attention seeking,” a sixth year agreed. 

Harry stopped walking. He turned on his heels and opened his mouth. He immediately closed it, the rude seventh and sixth years forgotten. 

Dean’s eyes were wide for a second, and Harry wondered what kind of face he made. After a moment, Dean’s lips quirked into the smallest of smiles. “Need to escape?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. 

They fell in step together and walked through the grounds down towards the lake, stopping well before they reached the bank. The Whomping Willow did not sway despite the breeze. Small ripples across the lake’s surface hinted at the creatures within. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it probably, but the Snape thing…” Dean started, thinking about his words. “I grew up with muggles too. I know after coming here you almost forget everything that can be done without magic, but I think if you told someone they might help.” 

“I know,” Harry said. He never told anyone growing up because there was no one to tell. Until Ron, no one had even bothered to come to Privet Drive to see him at all. Harry could remember a time when he thought it was normal for someone in a family to be lesser than everyone else. He never felt it was right, but he thought no one spoke of it at school because it was as routine as chores or breathing. Harry looked at the lake. The sun began to lower and streaked the sky and the water with orange. He looked back at Dean. He wanted to tell Dean it would be okay, that he just had to wait until he was eighteen and then he would be free, that it was all a magic spell. Instead, Harry nodded a little. “Next time I go there, I’ll see what I can do.” 

Dean nodded. “If you need somewhere to go, just send me an owl. I’ll make it happen.”

Harry nodded. 

They headed back into the castle. There would be food soon. Harry could already picture the platters and plates. He could already smell the delicious aromas. He headed towards the library to meet up with Hermione so they could walk to the Great Hall together. He heard the whispers as he passed by students in the hall. 

He concentrated on the fact his stomach was gently rumbling but not painful, that it was only the first rumble and soon there would be food. Even if he could not escape the rumours tonight, Hogwarts was his home and it was where he would not go hungry.

**The End**


End file.
